My blood ran cold."What did you tell him?"
"That I hadn't heard from my troubled sister in months.That last I knew, you were talking about California or some shit.Sent him on a wild goose chase north."
"Thank you," I whispered.
"Always, little sister.Always."His voice softened."I gotta go.Give the kid a hug from his uncle.And Ophelia?Let yourself be happy, yeah?You deserve it."
The call ended before I could respond.I handed the phone back to Razor, who tucked it away without comment.
"He sent Tyler north," I said, staring down into my coffee."But Tyler's not stupid.He won't be fooled for long."
"No," Razor agreed, his voice calm but firm."But by then we'll be ready for him."
The simple confidence in his statement eased the tension inside me.This wasn't just me against Tyler anymore.I had allies now.Had Razor.
A yawn caught me by surprise, my body finally registering the bone-deep exhaustion that had been held at bay by adrenaline and worry.
"You should sleep," Razor said, noticing immediately."It's been a long day."
I nodded, too tired to argue.Together we rinsed our mugs and turned out lights, moving through the house in a strangely comfortable silence.But as we reached the threshold of the bedroom—our bedroom—I hesitated.
Last night in Vegas, passion had made the transition easy.But here, in this house that was his but now supposedly ours, the reality of our arrangement felt suddenly stark.This was no vacation, no Vegas fantasy.This was real life stretching before us, built on a foundation of convenience and necessity rather than love.
Razor stood beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body but not touching me.His eyes, when they met mine, held a question he seemed almost afraid to ask.
"You coming to bed, wife?"he finally said, an attempt at lightness that couldn't quite mask the uncertainty beneath.
Wife.Such a small word for such a massive change.I thought of the gun in the nightstand drawer, the security cameras watching our every move outside, the hostile club president who saw me as an inconvenience rather than family.I thought of Tyler searching for us, of the precarious safety we'd found.
Then I thought of Dante sleeping peacefully in his race car bed, of Pretty Boy's voice telling me to let myself be happy, of Razor preparing a room for my son before we'd even arrived.
"Yes," I said, stepping over the threshold into our shared future."I'm coming to bed."
CHAPTER FIVE
Ophelia
The sandbox was Razor's idea.He'd built it himself last weekend, measuring and cutting the lumber with the same precision he applied to everything else in his life.I watched Dante dig his small fingers into the clean, white sand, his face alight with concentration as he packed it into his blue plastic bucket.The afternoon sun warmed my skin, but I couldn't relax into it, couldn't let the simple joy of my son playing wash over me.My eyes kept drifting to the tree line beyond our fence, to the neighbor's upstairs window with its partially drawn blinds, to the shadows that seemed to shift when nothing should be moving.
"Look, Mommy!I'm making a castle for Razor-saurus!"Dante upended his bucket, carefully lifting it to reveal a nearly perfect sand tower.His pride radiated from him in waves, his small shoulders straightening as he admired his handiwork.
"It's perfect, baby," I said, forcing warmth into my voice."He's going to love it."
Our backyard was modest but meticulously maintained—another surprise about Razor I hadn't expected.The grass was neatly trimmed, flower beds lined the fence with early summer blooms, and a small patio held a grill and seating area where Razor had promised we'd have dinner once the weather settled fully into summer.He'd thought of everything for Dante: the sandbox, a small swing hanging from the sturdy oak tree, even a patch of dirt designated as Dante's "garden" where they'd planted sunflower seeds together yesterday morning.
So much care and planning from a man I barely knew weeks ago.A man who now wore my ring and called my son his own.
My ears registered the silence before my conscious mind did—the complete absence of birdsong.The neighborhood had been full of chirping and calling when we'd first come outside, a suburban symphony that had faded so gradually I hadn't noticed until it was gone.Birds don't go silent for no reason.
My pulse quickened, a familiar tightness spreading across my chest as my eyes swept the yard more urgently.Nothing seemed obviously wrong.The fence remained intact, six feet of solid wood providing privacy and a measure of security.The back gate was still locked—I'd checked it twice before letting Dante play outside.The neighbors' houses stood quiet in the afternoon sun, windows reflecting light, curtains still.
Yet the atmosphere had changed.The entire mood felt different now.
"This part is the dungeon," Dante explained, digging a moat around his castle."For the bad guys that Razor-saurus fights."
I smiled automatically, the expression feeling stiff and unnatural on my face."That's smart.A moat will keep the bad guys from escaping."
A branch moved in the copse of trees beyond our back fence—just a slight sway against the stillness of everything around it.No wind stirred the air; the day was breathless and hot.I squinted, trying to convince myself it was a squirrel or bird too small to see from this distance.
